


the one-horned speaker

by nolandbeyond



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Other, an old au of mine that takes place after forsaken, even tho saint is probably gonna be the new speaker :3c, felt fun to revitalize after reading the speaker lorebook
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:48:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22107331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nolandbeyond/pseuds/nolandbeyond
Summary: shaxx feared the day his visions would become useful.
Kudos: 8





	the one-horned speaker

**Author's Note:**

> yeah so if you thought i WOULDNT be a writer that makes only shaxx fanfic then ding dong u are wrong, my friend, i am here to make only shaxx fanfic
> 
> ive rp'd him for five and a half years so its a long time comin i finally share my shaxx lmao

the visions had become clearer shortly after cayde died and, for the longest time, shaxx kept them to himself. the traveler never bothered with him for as long as he's lived and for as little as he's been concerned about it - sure, there were a few visions here and there, some ghosts that followed him curiously, tucked into the nape between his pauldrons and neck, but he never thought anything would come of it. the memories of his golden age life remind him why he had suffered so, but for many centuries, he found it wiser to keep silent.

in the end, he knew it would only be a matter of time before the consensus grew desperate and, in the wake of their indecisiveness and bias, ran out of candidates to vote for to replace the speaker, ran out of people to search for to truly speak for the traveler, turning their attention instead, to viable leaders and counselors of the people. the traveler’s chosen – that blessed guardian – had gone mad with rage, their anger only tempered briefly by the deaths of uldren and his barons though now consumed with an addictive need to purge the dreaming city of its curse. played right into mara’s hands. though they had spoken of a vision shortly after losing the light, their rage that cursed them so kept them at a distance for now.

zavala and ikora were shattered upon their grief —– ikora melting into a rage just barely shy of bursting from its perfectly wrapped package she had tucked away in her heart. zavala drew further into himself, forced his gaze inward and closer to the city – guilt gnaws at the both of them and with their image of unification broken, they fell quickly from the consensus’s eyes.

there’s a brief moment of consideration toward lord saladin and osiris both but they had been brushed away quickly. saladin no longer had a penchant to lead and never held a desire for city politics in the first place, his bluntness did not settle with the consensus, and osiris… well, he was osiris – power fallen from grace of the city’s favor and forever branded an exile.

and so, all eyes turn to the one authority figure barely holding a group of crazed and grief-stricken immortals together. he voices soft sorrow to the fall of a dear friend but his grip around order remains tight, even as he momentarily disappears to the dreaming city. if only to restore guardian order there when they grow out of petra’s control.

the gatekeeper of a city and its forever hidden counterpart. keeper of secrets so few know of all of them. hero of twilight gap, six fronts– hell, even the red war. a man who _laughs_ at death as he breaks its arm. _the last man standing_ . there’s not many others they can consider, not many still living or willing enough with _his_ kinds of credentials, and as they would find out later, truly the last of the traveler's chosen seers.

* * *

he sees the question before it falls from the consensus member’s – _arctur han, he thinks, he forgot immediately after he was told_ – mouth, but it doesn’t stop him from letting out a ridiculous scoff as he turns to look out the broad window in his barely-used office. his view faces the city, he likes having the traveler in sight, seeing it pulse softly with renewed energy and remind him of the lives his protects, of the light he bears. tonight, it does little to soothe the spike of _irritation? annoyance? no he doesn’t know what he feels. it’s not familiar._

**“** that’s not a question, **”** he says as he finally turns around to look at the dully robed mortals. there’s a flicker of fear that seems to pass through arctur’s gaze and shaxx can’t help the slight smirk that forms beneath his helm. **“** i was wondering how long it would take you bumbling fools to come to a decision. **”**

**“** w-well, s-s-sir– **”** shaxx holds his hand up, effectively silencing the nervous stuttering before it can really begin.

**“** don’t bother. i’ve been to too many of those inane meetings to know how it works. functions like a stuttering clock on its last legs if you ask me, **”** the last part is a grumble as he walks over to his desk, placing his hands flat on the mahogany top. he leans forward, bracing his weight on his hands, making the wood creak uncertainly as arctur and his companions shift nervously, fidgeting more the further shaxx leans over that small barrier.

his helmet shifts, clicks, and falls away, folding in on itself and away from his face to reveal a terrifyingly wide and toothy smile, eyes glimmering with the knowledge of a man who imagined what he would do in this sort of position should he have been given it countless times. lord shaxx is a man with the knowledge of who his enemies are in this mortal ring —– _and he knows exactly how to weed them out._

**“** so, **”** comes the amused purr, **“** when’s the coronation? **”**

* * *

shaxx doesn’t like the speaker’s robes. he’d heard the complaint from the previous speaker himself numerous times and when the tailors attempt to drape the new robes on his sturdy form, shaxx burns them off immediately, not caring to leave himself bare. he announces loudly as he brushes the ash off his shoulders that he would design something far more comfortable and practical before he turns and marches out of the room.

the titan comes back an hour later, fully clothed, with a handful of sketches, immaculately drawn and he explains them in even greater detail as the tailors pour over them. they begin immediately once choosing a practical and favorable design, shaxx watching them stitch for stitch, thread for thread. he doesn’t interfere, no, seeming confident that they can handle it on their own, but nonetheless, he remains until they finish late into the night.

he waits until the last tailor leaves, hearing the door close softly, before he walks over to the mannequin and inspects it one last time. after one walk around, it’s then that he finally grabs some armor paint, dipping his fingers in gently, and he draws one long vermilion stripe down the immaculate chest piece. he bows his head, hand resting at the edge of the stripe, and he heaves a long sigh once his silent prayer is finished and stows away the paint.

_now, he’s ready._

* * *

the titan doesn’t expect such a huge turn out to his coronation, i.e. the entire city. and then he remembers that while the people know the vanguard had shattered, they don’t know the finer details of cayde’s death – of how broken the tower and its commanders truly are. and so, the city streets leading from the tower to the traveler are littered with people, decorations strung up along the buildings and confetti raining down from above as the procession of sparrows make their way through. with the coming of a new speaker, the promise of _order_ , he understands that the people need this.

the cheering is deafening, almost making shaxx want to cringe at the wall of noise that surrounds him on either side, but he keeps his wits about as they continue forward. he hadn’t know that the consensus and the speaker were so strongly celebrated —– he never paid much attention to the celebrations of the city if they never made it to the tower. for the coronation of the speaker, a private banquet is usually held after the ceremony – spent with guardian consensus members and other heads of the democracy – those are what he attends.

but this… _this_ is all new to him.

by the time they make it to the temple directly beneath the traveler, shaxx’s ears are surely numb and his claws are trying desperately to break through his gloves as he dismounts his sparrow, staring up at the endless steps leading into the temple. he sucks in a breath and squares his shoulders as someone comes up behind him and clasps the furred cape over his right shoulder.

he walks with purpose, his strides long and elegant, head held high, just as his mothers taught him all those years ago. never falter, never hesitate – _even if you don’t know what you’re doing, simply looking as if you do can get you anywhere._ and so he strides up the steps of the intricate temple, never tearing his gaze from the entrance until he finally makes it inside and the cool air blows over him and the doors close to block out the voices of the city.

his ears ring as he looks around the dim hall, taking in every branch, every torch, and every guard stationed around. there isn’t much in terms of decoration, save for the occasional plants or bench, and the long carpet spread before him and it doesn’t change as he traverses into the main chamber where the head consensus members await him. _zavala, ikora, the newly appointed shiro, the faction leaders, even saladin who stands at the head of the small semi-circle._

the old iron lord has his helmet off, a lacquered oak box in his hands, and he offers a small yet proud smile as the traveler’s glow falls upon shaxx when he steps into the ring. shaxx’s heart swells and warms at the sight even as kneels before them, placing a hand on his knee. ikora and zavala’s smiles don’t quite reach their eyes, grief still clouding them, but he sees the faintest glimmers of hope threaten to break through, and for shaxx ,that is enough.

saladin opens the oak box, revealing the speaker’s mask, redecorated into the familiar colors of shaxx’s old helm, and shiro moves to remove it. as the new hunter vanguard strides forward, saladin’s deep voice reverberates throughout the small chamber, echoing out into the city as he recites an ancient oath,

**“** lord amia shaxx, on this day of remembrance and in this age of recollection, do you cast aside your name, your title, and your past to serve the city and the traveler as its oracle and herald of the future? **”**

**“** i do. **”**

**“** do you swear yourself to call upon your visions and dreams in truth and honesty as the traveler intended, imparting your given wisdom to the consensus of the people to further our future into a peaceful golden age and the end of the darkness’s reign? **”**

**“** i do. **”** with the last words of lord shaxx spoken in the chamber, the mask rests over his face, obscuring his vision momentarily until the hud activates and he is given the sight of the consensus proclaiming together,

**“** from here until irreparable death, the holy voice of the traveler is reborn —– arise, o blessed speaker, arise! **”**

getting to his feet, the speaker squares his shoulders and puffs out his chest, stance tall and proud. there was going to be a lot of work to do in the coming months, but for tonight, he will relish in the celebration of his new role.

* * *

his first meeting as the speaker happens the day after his coronation and he’s not surprised. they want to catch him off guard, unprepared, to hound him and prove that he’s not a capable leader and perhaps drive him out and replace him with an _unsuitable stand-in_. but he knows their tricks, knows how they think, and he walks in with a _list_.

the speaker remains standing even as the full consensus hall is seated and he looks at the dark and hooded faces out in the dimness. he eyes narrow as he picks out some particular faces, watching as they fidget when he turns his head towards them, and there’s a soft snort. _they know and if they don’t they’ll figure it out soon._

**“** _welcome!_ **”** he booms out, letting out a soft laugh at the way the consensus jumps at his voice and he claps his hands together, spark dancing between his palms. **“** how convenient that you should all convene today - a full house for the first time in many years! since we are all here now, there are a number of items i would like us to… consider before moving forward to heavier topics. **”**

**“** what would you like to go over, speaker? you have our attention, **”** ikora says gently, her firm tone killing any noise of protest that had any hope of springing up.

the speaker spreads his hands out and, from the arc, springs up bright blue holograms, six panels in total, that begin rotating around his broad form. the panels begin streaming dozens of names, and he relishes in the terror that begins to grow on some members’ faces.

**“** today, my dear consensus, we will be **cleaning house**. **”**

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! if you can, please comment, it would mean a lot!
> 
> also shaxx knows jackshit about being a speaker in terms of the tenets and saladin absolutely knows that so thats why the ceremony didnt involve reciting the tenets bc shaxx would most definitely recite the fourth one on accident and terrify everyone lmao


End file.
